#AmericanWriters
THE CHICK in the egg picks at… “Cheep … cheep … cheep” is the sal… “Cheep … cheep” … from oval to ova… It is at the door of this house, t… (In the academies many books, at t…
(We can succeed only by concert. . . . The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion....
YOUR white shoulders I remember And your shrug of laughter. Low laughter Shaken slow
THE LAW says you and I belong t… The law says you are mine and I a… And there are a million miles of w… Between the chair where you sit an… The law says two strangers shall e…
LAST night a January wind was ri… over our house and whistling a wol… eaves. I sat in a leather rocker and read… the Browning poem, Childe Roland…
GUNS on the battle lines have po… between Brussels and Paris. And, William Morris, when I read… the great arches and naves and lit… corners of the Churches of Northe…
RED gold of pools, Sunset furrows six o’clock, And the farmer done in the fields And the cows in the barns with bul… Take the cows and the farmer,
I SAW Man, the man-hunter, Hunting with a torch in one hand And a kerosene can in the other, Hunting with guns, ropes, shackles… I listened
STUFF of the moon Runs on the lapping sand Out to the longest shadows. Under the curving willows, And round the creep of the wave li…
Hope is a tattered flag and a drea… Hope is a heartspun word, the rain… The evening star inviolable over t… The shimmer of northern lights acr… The blue hills beyond the smoke of…
NEITHER rose leaves gathered in… Cinders-these-hissing in a marl an…
YOUR eyes and the valley are mem… Your eyes fire and the valley a bo… It was here a moonrise crept over… It was here we turned the coffee c… And your eyes and the moon swept t…
THE CHILD Margaret begins to w… All the numbers come well-born, sh… Both 1 and 7 are straightforward,… The 6 and 9 salute as dancing sist… All the numbers are well-born, onl…
Passing through huddled and ugly w… By doorways where women Looked from their hunger-deep eyes… Haunted with shadows of hunger-han… Out from the huddled and ugly wall…
GRIEG being dead we may speak of… Grieg being dead we can talk about… Grieg being with Ibsen, Björnson… Grieg being dead does not care a h… Morning, Spring, Anitra’s Dance,